


Wish You Didn't See This

by AgentCatt



Series: Lolix One Shot Stuff [6]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Post season 14, Pre Chorus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 02:24:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9471254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentCatt/pseuds/AgentCatt
Summary: Felix has PTSD from the Great War and can usually hide it very well. So well that even Locus didn't really know he had it. Till one day Felix can't just sleep it off like usual.





	

Felix comes home to an empty house. He's thankful for that. No one to see him. 

He doesn't feel okay. This is what happens when he loses control of his mind. All the memories, the feelings, they never go away. He can only control them. Today is just one of those days.

Felix locks the door behind him. Every sound is magnified. The click of the lock. The tick of the clock. The drip of the faucet. The creak of every floor board. The jingle of his keys as he tries to set them down gently. 

With one step, he's back behind Sam. A gun in his hands. And no one else around. The last of their squad. With another step, the adrenaline kicks in. His heart begins to beat faster. 

_ Just make it to bed,  _ he tells himself. If he can get to bed then it'll be okay. He can sleep it off. That's how it normally goes. Then he plays it off as if he felt sick to his stomach. Gives him a reason to not eat. A form of punishment.

Each step becomes painfully harder to take. He only makes it halfway up the stairs before giving up and sitting on a step, staring out into nothingness. He shouldn't be alive. Part of him doesn't want to live. 

It's not fair that everyone else died and he lived. He survived. They call him a survivor. He doesn't feel like one. He can still smell the excess amounts of blood. He can smell the area they were in. Sam keeps calling out for more back-up. Keeps saying everyone is dying. There's nothing they can do but survive. 

Survival. Is that all it is now? Is that all he has to look forward to? Survival? What does it mean to survive? Cause it sure as hell isn't this. It can't be. There has to be more. But does he even want more? It's getting pretty cozy in the “survival” part of things. Why should he try for more? 

He asks these questions only to never get answers. No one seems to know the answers to any of these.

He leans his head against the wall. The smell getting worse. The images getting clearer. What did he do to deserve this? 

Every sound seems quiet, muffled by the memory of bombs. The sound of grenades going off as they're being thrown at them. Slowly, the stairs, the house, everything begins to disappear. Replaced with the past. At this moment, he's gone from reality. He's lost in a memory. 

Reliving the memory. Almost word for word. Every bullet passing by, the same as it were then. Every-

“Lookout!” Felix shouts, moving to shield Locus’ back. The bullet hitting Felix's left shoulder. It'll have to be dug out later. No time to now. 

“You okay?” Locus takes care of the one that shot Felix.

“Yeah, I'll live. If you can get us both out of here.” Felix takes a deep breath. “I hear more coming.”

“Get ready.” Locus turns back to his side. Felix leans against Locus’ back. 

“If we get out alive, I never want to see you again.”

“I can say the same to you.” Locus takes aim. 

“Glad we finally agree on something.”

Shots fired. Felix's arm stings. The recoil hurts. Everything hurts. 

“Felix, put the knife down.” The sound of Locus’ voice is different. This isn't his Sam. It's deeper. This- What is this? What happened?

“Felix. Put. The knife. Down.”

Felix looks up, not sure where he is. Eyes showing he's not completely there.

“Felix.”

The knife drops. Felix squints at Locus. Then he realizes. He feels a sting in his shoulder. He looks at the knife on the ground. He didn't even remember moving. He doesn't know how he got his knife.

“Locs…” Felix's voice cracks. 

Locus comes all the way up the stairs. He stands in front of Felix, not another word. He leads Felix to the bathroom. Once there, he makes him take off his shirt. Felix winces and groans in pain at moving his arm. Locus begins to clean the wound. 

“Locus…”

“You don't have to explain. I know a PTSD episode when I see one.”

“You weren't supposed to ever see.” Felix can't bring himself to look at Locus. He just looks at the ground, upset at himself. He'll be fine tomorrow. He knows this. But he'll hurt for a while. Pain is his only friend anyway. 

“Do you,” Locus knows the answer. He puts a bandage over the clean would. “want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“It'll help you.”

“I just want to go to bed. Don't tell Siris about this.” Felix walks past Locus. He grabs the knife on the floor before heading into the bedroom. 

He looks at the blood still on the knife, saddened that it's his. He sets it down on his dresser before climbing into bed. He takes the entire blanket, making sure it's all around him. He's cold. Almost always is though. Especially after something like this. 

He lays there, thinking. How did Locus get him to come out of it? How long had he been trying to get him out of it? He closes his eyes. Here's to hoping it doesn't happen again, knowing it damn will.


End file.
